


Last Christmas

by thunderclaws



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Couch Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stucky Secret Santa 2014, Wordcount: 100-2.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderclaws/pseuds/thunderclaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky live together in their small apartment in Brooklyn. As they are each other's only remaining family, they're spending Christmas alone together, loving each other completely, but no longer secretly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my perfect Stucky Super Secret Santa buddy, the amazing dontfuckingtouchsteverogers (dontfuckingtouchsteverogers.tumblr.com)  
> I really, really hope you like it!  
> Also it's Christmas, so I couldn't make it too sad, I'm sorry... I'll write you more sad poetry if you want to hmu anytime (;  
> Also sorry that I couldn't post this on Christmas day, it was a surprisingly busy time here, too...
> 
> I apologise for all the possible errors and typos!
> 
> Also big thanks to Emerald (thesilent-lurker.tumblr.com) for beta-reading and helping in making the mess in my brain understandable, I couldn't've done this without you!

Christmas had always been the best time of the year for Bucky. The explanation was simple: it was a time for family and even though Bucky was an orphan he never felt like one. He had the Rogers. And Christmas was when he remembered to appreciate this, it was the perfect opportunity to show his appreciation. It was hidden in the gifts he made for them, in the smiles he delivered, in the warm hugs and his eagerness to help Sarah in the kitchen. Not that he didn’t normally act like a sweet little angel boy as Sarah had once made the mistake of calling him (he never let go of these words, and every time Steve blamed Bucky for being a pain in the ass, he would quote Steve’s mother in his defense).  
The peaceful holidays reminded him of how lucky he was to have Sarah and Steve in his life, how lucky they all were to be together.

  
  
After Sarah’s death, Christmas hadn’t quite felt the same. Dinner didn’t taste the same – and it had nothing to do with Steve’s cooking skills, he wasn’t a bad cook, not at all – it just wasn’t made by Sarah, it wasn’t smeared with her love towards her boys… The kitchen didn’t look as tidy and clean as it had before, the air didn’t smell the same. Bucky kept expecting Sarah to rush to them from somewhere, apologizing for her delay, telling them to start on the chores. But she never did, and Bucky was miserable. So was Steve. Christmas just wasn’t the same.  
“At least we’re together” Bucky had said to Steve when he had looked out of the window and told Bucky how he missed his mother.  
Steve was now the only family Bucky had and vice versa.

  
  
Bucky had promised himself that the next Christmas wouldn’t be as miserable as the one before. They’d start new traditions, make new memories. They’d have a good time, and Steve would be full of food and happy, in a way that was not possible on any other day of the year.  
Only it turned out there wasn’t much time to make new traditions, as the war waited for Bucky…  
  
That’s why he hoped to make this Christmas the best one yet.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
Steve doesn’t take his eyes away from Bucky’s present. He holds the thick blanket in his arms, looking a bit overwhelmed. The blanket is pure wool. Bucky hopes it’s enough to keep Steve warm through the cold winter.  
“Buck…. How much did this cost?” He asks quietly, looking up into Bucky’s eyes with concern.  
“Don’t you worry about that. It’s a gift” Bucky smiles a bit, not even trying to hide his pride. “Do you like it?” He asks even though already knows the answer. But knowing Steve, he will think he’s not worth such an expensive gift. Oh, how wrong he is. _He’s worth more._  
“Of course I like it, Buck… But how did you get it?” Steve’s eyes remain warm, but his eyebrows are furrowed. This makes Bucky feel a bit guilty for breaking their promise not to buy gifts like they had sworn every year - but only a little bit. This year was different.  
“It’s a present, no questions allowed. Promise me you’ll keep warm, _huh_?” Bucky says. He takes the blanket from Steve’s hands and wraps it around the other one’s narrow shoulders.  
“’S cold, you’ll get yourself sick” Bucky really wishes Steve would stop questioning him on how he got the money. He doesn’t want him to feel guilty or like a burden.  
The blanket was a present and seeing Steve staying warm makes Bucky happy – in fact nothing he sold to get that blanket had ever made him nearly as happy. He needs to make sure Steve will stay warm and survive even when Bucky’s not here to look after him…  
“Thank you” Steve says quietly and these words leave Bucky somewhat dumbfounded as they are said with so much gratitude. It's a completely different reaction he was expecting to get.  
  
It’s been such a long time since Steve has taken Bucky’s concern over his health so positively. Usually he starts mumbling about how he can look after himself, and how he’s not a baby, and Bucky’s not his caregiver. Bucky just nods to it, telling him he knows all this, but he just wants to make sure Steve is okay.  
In the end, Steve shows his gratitude in one way or another: smiling, promising him he’s alright, sometimes even hugging Bucky. However he can’t shake off this feeling that all of this is done more out of obligation than gratitude. Maybe Steve just doesn’t know how to respond to Bucky’s worries? Or maybe he really doesn’t appreciate it, only feels like he should…  
Even so, Bucky needs to make sure Steve is okay.  
And so he does ‘worry over nothing’ time after time. When Steve gets into fights, catches the flu or slips and falls on ice.  
This time, the gratitude, the real emotion, it makes it all worth it.  
  
Maybe Steve senses that this Christmas is different somehow.

“No problem” Bucky smiles and Steve wriggles under the blanket, lifting his legs on the couch so they can be covered too. “Are you cold?”  
“Not for long, ‘s really warm” Steve says and looks down at the grey blanket covering almost all of his body. He sighs softly and closes his eyes. He looks peaceful, almost ready to fall asleep, right there sitting on their couch in the middle of Christmas day. In moments like these Bucky wishes he could look inside the other one’s head, read his thoughts, see his world.  
  
But he can’t, so he does the next best thing instead. He sits closer to the small boy under the covers - whose dark, long eyelashes touch his cheekbones, those perfect cheekbones as if carved by angels themselves, may he add. His lips are parted slightly and Bucky wishes he could touch them, if only just for a moment.  
The couch dips slightly as he sits down and Steve opens his eyes, looking like he just woke up from a sweet dream.  
“Come ‘ere” The dark-haired man murmurs and opens his arms, placing his legs on the coffee table. Bucky might have given him the blanket but it doesn’t mean he won’t still be making sure Steve is staying warm.  
Steve doesn’t hesitate and leans closer to the other man’s chest, placing his head under Bucky’s chin. As Steve adjusts himself, Bucky sneaks his arms under the blanket and puts them around the small body. He really is warmer than usual, but not feverish. Just a normal, healthy warmth.

 

  
For a while, they sit still in the small apartment, silence only broken by the sounds of Brooklyn coming from behind the walls.  
“I have a present for you, too” Steve suddenly confesses with a small voice and moves away from Bucky. Bucky doesn’t want to let go. Steve takes the warmth with him.  
“Steve… We promised not to-” He tries, but quickly notices the change in Steve’s facial expression. He’s not the one to start lecturing about gifts, money, or _promises_.  
“It’s nothing compared to yours, but I hope you’ll like it anyway” Steve gets up from the couch but keeps the blanket over his shoulders.  
Bucky nods with a smile on his face. Of course he will. No matter what it is, he will like it, and carry it around everywhere he goes as a reminder of his best friend.

 

  
Steve gets back in about two minutes, keeping his hands and the present under the blanket. Bucky is still sitting on the couch, now staring out of the window. It had started snowing outside. The tranquility and silence snow brings as it falls surprises him every year; it’s such a relief from the commotion of the city.  
Bucky feels the blanket brushing against his arm again, on the same side as before and turns his head. Steve is taking out a scroll of paper from under his blanket. He looks at Bucky with doubtful eyes before opening his mouth.  
“Uh, so… I was meaning to give it to you on your birthday, but you gave me this, so… it’s not great but it’s… I wanted to do this… for you” Steve stutters and nudges at his blanket, looking away with a light blush rising to his cheeks. Bucky smiles hoping to look receptive and possibly make his needless doubts fade away.  
“I’m pretty sure it’s great no matter what you might think.”  
Steve looks down, fiddling with the corner of the scroll. Then he looks up slowly and hands it to the one waiting. Bucky doesn’t take his gaze off of the beautiful blue eyes. Mostly because they’re so damn gorgeous and partly because this moment is too fragile. He doesn’t want to do anything too sudden to break the magic.  
Steve looks down at his feet again, and Bucky moves his eyes to the scroll. He slips off the strip of fabric around it and unwraps the paper. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him burning with anticipation…

“Wow” Is the only thing he manages to say. He’s holding a pencil drawing in his hands. The most stunning pencil drawing he has ever seen. It’s from a picture taken when they were still little kids, sitting happily on a swing.  
Maybe it’s just Bucky’s adoration towards the artist that makes him think the drawing is so perfect, but he really wishes the whole world could witness such skills. The drawing is so vivid and alive, like no photo could capture. The attention to the smallest of details, their facial expressions, the lighting and the shades… everything in it is so beautiful.  
Bucky loves it.  
And he loves everything he sees when he looks at the boy in the picture and then back at the boy sitting next to him.

 

 

  
  
“Steve, this is great. It’s more than great… It’s perfect. Thank you” Bucky says and looks at Steve who is blushing widely by now. It’s so adorable, so disgustingly sweet, it makes Bucky want to hold him tightly. He wants to let Steve know how much he adores the drawing. How much he adores _him._  
  
Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to say something. Something modest, Bucky is sure. Before he starts speaking, Bucky throws his arms around the small boy. The drawing is still in his hand, while the other one finds a way to Steve’s hair. He gently places the drawing on the back of the couch and takes Steve fully in his arms, dragging him onto his lap.  
  
“Buck-” Steve starts to protest.  
“It’s perfect, Steve” Bucky whispers to his ear, tries to ignore the shivers going through Steve's body , wishing his voice wouldn’t be so rasp.  
 _You’re perfect._  
Bucky feels something tightening in his belly reminding him of the things he's trying to avoid thinking about... This could be his last Christmas in Brooklyn with his best friend. This could be his last Christmas, period.   
Steve relaxes on his lap as if he’d heard his thoughts. The dark-haired man tells himself to enjoy this, to stop worrying, to be grateful for what he’s got:  
Steve sitting on his lap, with his side pressed to the other man’s chest, breathing steadily. They are so close Bucky can almost hear his heartbeat. He can smell the wool of the blanket, the brisk winter air filling their apartment, gingerbread, cinnamon and Steve. Everything right now is  _perfect._  
So what if this might be the last time he ever gets to feel this way? He’s got this moment, here and now. Why worry about the future, when he has his own piece of heaven right within his grasp, sitting on his lap.  
  
Bucky relaxes his body, sighs deeply, exhales the bad thoughts, inhales the scents in the air.  
Steve turns his head to look back at him once he realizes he’s being watched. They exchange smiles and Bucky gets lost in Steve’s glimmering eyes. They reflect the light coming from the snowy Brooklyn behind the window, looking paler than usual. The three words that have tried escaping his mouth so many times before are once again stuck in the back of his throat.

_I love you._

He’s left with his mouth open, cheeks flushed, heart fluttering and Steve looking at him, smiling fondly.

 

  
“I love you too” Steve whispers.

 


End file.
